


Sgruban Love

by Akiran



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Humanstuck, M/M, dating simulations, datinggamestuck, otome games, sgruban love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiran/pseuds/Akiran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are about to play a game for girls.</p><p>This game for girls you are about to play is a dating simulation called Sgruban Love. Some customers at the store glanced at you questioningly when you stormed onto the threshold and immediately grabbed the game, making a beeline for the checkout and slamming the plastic box on the counter with a little too much force.</p><p>“Play as a highblood troll beauty! Explore Alternia and meet new trolls, gaining love points along the way! Fill quadrants with other trolls! This new addition to the Alien Love dating series brought to you by GrubGames is sure to blow your mind. Also coming soon: Cherub Love!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are about to play a game for girls.

The game for girls you are about to play is a dating simulation called Sgruban Love. Some customers at the store glanced at you questioningly when you stormed onto the threshold and immediately grabbed the game, making a beeline for the checkout and slamming the plastic box on the counter with a little too much force. You didn’t really care about the onlookers then: Terezi, your longtime girlfriend, had mercilessly dumped you in favor of some skanky, blonde dude with shades, and you just needed something to keep your hurt pride distracted.

The relationship probably should have ended much sooner, but neither of you was able to put the concept of breaking up into words. Well, at least, initially. You’ve always been a volatile person, as if hanging on a single thread—the thread that, if snapped, will lead you plummeting into a dark abyss of your own insecurities. Your relationship mirrored that. Some days, you and Terezi got along well enough, like any mediocre couple should, but other days, you snapped at her, or simply just sent her the wrong messages. She had to deal with so much of your shit. And Terezi does not take shit.

She came to your apartment one day to hang out while you two were still dating, and she seemed happier. Happier than she had ever been with you. She talked about a guy—some blonde “coolkid” with shades of swag that drew comics. You tried your best to be supportive, but it bothered you more and more, that whenever she came over, the only thing she had to talk about involved the guy—Dave. That’s what his name was.

Eventually, you got jealous. The thread that kept you from falling into the abyss was swinging violently, and you were the pendulum causing its movement. In one, blazing argument, it was over. You blew up at her, and both of you lost it. The weary thread finally gave way.

But that was months ago. You and Terezi are on chatting terms now, though you rarely see her. Neither of you bring up the past, but she’s mighty content being with her coolkid. And you’re mighty content with sitting in your tiny, one-bedroom apartment, playing dating simulations. Well, not really.

In your defense, you weren’t smart enough to scrutinize the games at the store properly, being too fed up with your relationship problems (or lack thereof), and simply selected something at random. And that left you with this gaudy simulation that promised to “fulfill all of your dreams with these handsome men!”

You take a closer look at the game description.

“Play as a highblood troll beauty! Explore Alternia and meet new trolls, gaining love points along the way! Fill quadrants with other trolls! This new addition to the Alien Love dating series brought to you by GrubGames is sure to blow your mind. Also coming soon: Cherub Love!”

A display of datable characters is lined up at the bottom of the box. All of these “handsome men” have odd, grey skin, and candy corn horns. You frown. You’re bisexual, but other species aren’t really your thing.

Oh, what the hell. You spent money on this, and so you’re going to man up and at least try it. Pulling the CD out of the case, you proceed to load up your ancient computer. You would get a new computer to replace this piece of junk, but you can never seem to scrimp up enough money. Working two part time jobs along with classes occupies most of your time, and you have rent and bills to pay. Plus, as much of an old fashioned toaster your computer is, it still runs, and even plays some of your favorite video games.

By now, ol’ Faithful has completely started up and is sticking its CD drive tongue out at you. Quickly, you pop in the disk and push it in, hearing the gears turn and whir as the computer processes your latest purchase. Soon enough, a window slinks onto your screen with a progress bar. You stare at it intently, hoping the power of sheer will can make the bar fill faster, but it stubbornly remains at 4%. God. Your computer simply does not understand the expectations of modern technology, and you simply do not have the patience to wait. You head to your kitchen, hoping the game will be done loading by the time you’re back.

While you’re busy deciding whether to drink the flat soda that’s been in your fridge since last week, or the new one you found on sale (99 cents is a great deal), you hear your cell phone vibrate from your back pocket. Grumbling, you slip your phone out and close the refrigerator door, then fleetingly glance at the caller ID. You would recognize that teal colored ID from a mile away.

“Hello?” you mumble after fumbling with your flip phone more than necessary.

“Karkat? Great! I thought you wouldn’t answer,” Terezi chuckles, almost evilly.

You know her “evil” chuckle is simply her default laugh, but it still hurts just a little. You’re still getting over your heartache. “What do you want?” you snap, unconvincingly, because your voice wavers in the middle.

Someone retorts in the background. “Someone’s being an ass,” the voice says. Jesus no, Terezi’s boy toy was hanging around, and listening in on your conversation to make it worse. Your throat closes a little more when you hear Terezi try to stifle a chuckle. You used to make her laugh like that. Whatever. Not your problem anymore. She probably got tired of you and your antics. You try not to beat yourself up too much about all the things you did wrong, all the problems you caused her, and all the crap she had to listen to, but negative thoughts are difficult to stop. You miss her next few words.

“—house.”

“What?” you say, successfully keeping your voice leveled.

“You left something over at my house.”

You make an internal attempt at panicking. “What?” It’s been so long already; how could something lost half a year ago suddenly turn up now? You hear Dave chuckle in the background. One day, he’s going to choke on that laugh, if he hasn’t already.

“One of your programming books is over here.”

Crap. You need that. Plus, it’s expensive. All thoughts of letting Terezi keep the item or throw it away immediately leave your head. Now you have to go over to her house, confront her and possibly even Dave, and retrieve your precious book. “I can pick it up. Later. I’m busy this week, so how does next week sound?” Your voice is a little gruff now, but it’s even and firm.

“Great! I have to go now. Dave’s taking me to get cherry sorbet.”

Yet another pang of—pang of what? Hurt? Annoyance? Jealousy? You’re disgusted with yourself. You hang up without saying goodbye. It’s already been half a year, and you still feel the ache. It’s gotten duller, sure, but the pain is nevertheless prominent.

You’re not really thirsty anymore. Sheepishly, you make your way back into your bedroom and slide back into your chair, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them. You’re not really in the mood for games anymore either, but the full loading bar taunts you. You roll your mouse over to the play button.

Almost immediately, your screen fades into darkness, then gradually brightens again. It’s probably some sort of game effect, but you breathe out a sigh of relief. You wouldn’t be able to take it if your computer crashed on you.

A white creature assaults your screen. It has strange claws, and resembles some sort of mutant crab. It hisses for a moment, and a text box appears.

This is CRABDAD. He is your LUSUS, otherwise known as your CARETAKER. What is your NAME?

Enter name ==>

You tentatively type in your name, looking warily from your keyboard to scrutinize the crabdad on your screen. He’s sort of creepy, yet kind of endearing. You could get used to him.

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. ==>

Nodding to no one in particular, you press the arrow.

What appears next is a black outline of what will eventually be a picture of your game self. You’re surprised that the game has a male and female option.

Actually, it seems the female option is grayed out. You wonder why, but then don’t really care, though you do think it’s kind of suspicious. Of course, since there’s no other option, you stick with the tab labeled male. Not that you would ever select female anyways.

An image is generated for you. You have a short mop of black hair, along with nubby, candy corn horns. The game gives you a black turtleneck to wear with a grey cancer sign on the chest, and a pair of grey jeans. You approve of the style, then notice how the character bears an uncanny resemblance to you. In the end, you brush it off.

==>

You live on a planet called ALTERNIA, and you are SIX SWEEPS. It is about time find a MATESPRIT to woo. You’ve been close to a couple trolls throughout your life. 

Your hurriedly grab the guide from the game’s box and rifle through it to find the word matesprit. Apparently, it basically has the same connotation as a lover, but with more pity. You figure as much.

Glancing back up, you’re assaulted with a line of trolls, the same ones on the cover of the box.

There is a troll with a purple streak in his hair, glasses, and some fancy cape. You look him over. He has the most annoying sneer on his face, and you can’t help but feel a little unnerved. He has a sort of discontent aura around him, almost as if he was trying to say “I will one day kill all land dwwellers.” Wow, where did you even come up with that sentence? It sounds absurd. Anyways, he looks like a douchebag. You skip him.

Another troll wears broken sunglasses (and horns, which makes you ponder over what the function of horns is anyways) and seems to be sweating profusely. The sweat is just so clearly sexy and completely a turn on and he must smell like the most beautiful flower that has ever set foot on earth—or whatever planet this game takes place on. Your attempt at sarcasm fails quite pitifully, as you’re only thinking to yourself. His broken sunglasses, rippling muscles, and dissatisfied frown make him look like an asshole. He has the asshole aura to go with it. You skip him too.

The next one has huge-ass horns, and a shy smile. Maybe pushy, cunning girls with a knack for revenge and treasure hunting would like this type, but not you. He’s also in a wheelchair. You wonder what the backstory on that is. He’s most definitely a pushover. If the next troll is anything like the other two you saw before, you’ll reconsider this guy. But he looks like he plays games for girls. You skip him as well. Maybe the next one will impress you.

The last one wears red and blue glasses, like it’s some sort of 3-D fad. He’s lanky, and has a quirky smile that you take a liking to. By take a liking, you mean that you kind of wish you could tell him off. But alas, he’s a video game character. He has two sets of horns, but they’re not big-assed or broken, and he seems relatively kempt. Definitely better than the others, at least, though you can’t really say that until you actually play. You choose him.

==>

You have chosen SOLLUX CAPTOR.


	2. Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where encounters of sorts are made, and where Karkat cannot socialize for the love of all things holy.

Fucking gods of Alternia, Sollux is a douchebag. It’s already been a good week and a half, and you’re still stuck playing this game, when you should be spending your time far more productively. Instead, you’ve been trying to talk to this bipolar dude who has probably never seen the sun—oh wait, trolls don’t go out in the sun, big whoop—since he was a pathetic grub. All you’ve been thinking about this past week is this game, strangely enough, up to the point where a manager at one of your part time jobs has threatened to fire you. Though he does that every week. Your grades are apparently dropping a bit in some of your classes, but who really cares about that; you’re a smart fuckass, and addiction is a terrible thing.

You take another gander at the helpful guide that came with your game. It truly served its purpose as you tried to maneuver your sorry ass around the culture shock that is troll life. You’ve pretty much gotten the hang of it now though. Pretty much.

eheheh kk, you really know how to cheer a guy up.

==>

Did you also mention Sollux a bipolar twit who catapults himself from ecstasy to depression every five minutes? Oh, you did? Well that’s just too bad. The guy gets his feathers all preened up in confidence and is completely content with himself one minute, then starts slobbering all over the floor on how he’s useless in the next. And in between, you two exchange weird hate-love signals and bro jabs. A real relationship with this guy would probably be like traversing over the Atlantic with a shitty paper raft.

NO YOU FUCKASS. I’M JUST BEING A GOOD FRIEND, OKAY? DON’T YOU DARE SPIRAL BACK DOWN INTO THAT SELF HATRED SHIT AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME?

==>

2ure kk, whatever you 2ay.

==>

You sigh. Relationships with AIs might actually be more stressful than real life relationships. Being ironically aware of the fact that the game has most definitely taken your mind off your multitude of problems brings you back to thinking about your problems again, as well as a certain problem involving a certain manual you left at a certain ex-girlfriend’s house that you need to pick up. Playtime is over.

Right after you save first.

Not a moment too soon, you step out of your apartment complex. You try to avoid acting like social recluse when you’re out in public, so your urge to hiss at the all-too-bright sun is snuffed. Who even goes out in this weather anyways? It’s absolutely horrendous. The sunlight streams steadily through the sparse clouds that litter the sky, and you can’t help but squint unattractively at the extra light as you make a graceful stumble towards Terezi’s complex.

You finally manage to maneuver your way to Terezi’s apartment with aplomb. And by aplomb, you mean you had to jostle and shove your way through people, occasionally giving a flippant insult at an accusing passerby. Kids apparently don’t take the word dumbass very well nowadays.

Terezi answers the door before you even get a chance to knock. That strange ability has always been a sixth sense of hers. You give her a weak smile, hoping that you can retrieve your book and quickly abscond.

But no. Because life likes to make you miserable, Dave fucking Douchebag has to round the goddamn corner, probably coming back from a trip to the Asshole-Mart, and has to see you standing there in Terezi’s apartment doorway. Fuck this.

Maybe, if you pretend to ignore him, you can get your book and leave, but you realize what a futile notion the idea is. Dave would never pass up a chance to mess with you somehow. That’s why he’s such an idiotic douchebag. He shimmies over to Terezi’s side in front of you as you watch warily. The ever present poker face taunts you, as if he’s trying to tell you how you would never be able to do this with her.

“So can I have my programming book back, or do I need to blow the everloving fuck out of my think pan right on your doorstep in an attempt to avert my burning eye sockets from your ridiculously flamboyant public displays of affection?” One way of knowing you’ve been playing games way too long is when you start replacing human body parts with troll ones. Luckily, the pair doesn’t notice your little slip up.

“Dude, I’m just standing next to her. That’s not even a public display of affection,” Dave defended coolly. “Now this would be one of those great PDAs that you’re talkin’ about.” He raises an eyebrow as he slides a sneaky arm around Terezi’s waist.

Terezi seems to love this. She squeals and turns to Dave, her attention completely distracted. “Oh, Dave, now we’re engaging in some of this coolkid behavior I was talking about.”

You know the little waist grab was a jab at you. You know you’re supposed to take this in stride. You know it’s not supposed to bother you. You know that Dave’s sorry attempt at ticking you off is indeed a sorry attempt, and that, of all things, a stupid waist grab isn’t supposed to faze you one bit.

But it does.

You look away. Because you’re not strong enough to handle something as miniscule as some fucking grabby hands. Suddenly, you have an urge to go back to your computer and talk with your digital boyfriend.

“Fucking keep the manual, actually. Maybe you could use it to kindle the flame of undying love between you two, as I slowly pluck out my hair follicle by follicle.”

You hear Terezi call after you, but you ignore her. She has bigger fishes to spend time with. You’re not so much angry as you are put off that she reciprocated to such a self-loving asshole who gets kicks from making you upset.

A couple more hours of gaming will certainly take care of your negative feelings. And that’s exactly what you plan on doing, until your phone alerts you of a text message. You check it, then groan, stopping in your tracks and allowing a couple of kids to run into you. After flipping them your favorite finger, you stalk off in a different direction.

“Kanaya, I don’t really want to talk.”

“Nonsense. I would like to help you through your problems.”

Kanaya’s always been pretty awkward in the expression department, not to mention how she wants her nose in all of your problems, especially in the ones involving your relationships. You appreciate her efforts, but you’re not in the mood, even after she’s treated you to a much-needed cup of java in a local café.

“Karkat, you do realize that you will need to get this off your chest eventually?”

“Who says?”

“I know this for a fact. Keeping issues bottled up leads to larger problems in the end.”

You sip your delicious cup of coffee, contemplating your options. You could tell her and get her off your back, or you could wait this one out. Chances are she has an important meeting scheduled sometime soon and will have to bolt. Being a well-known fashion designer kind of makes that a given.

“I need to leave soon, but I would like you to at least tell me something,” she continues.

Bingo. Maybe you can wait this out. “If you needed to leave so soon, why invite me for coffee, anyways?”

She looks distractedly at her watch. “Someone told me you could use a good talk due to problems with certain people that have cropped up recently. I felt this was an appropriate enough time to talk with you.”

You have to hand it to her: Kanaya is both efficient and outstanding. Who else can possibly manage to talk to a distressed friend over coffee and still make it in time for a meeting, all in a half hour period?

“It was just some old Terezi troubles is all,” you mumble, your voice softening uncharacteristically. Fucking Striders— _that_ was his last name—and their fucking business.

Kanaya immediately centers her attention into a laser beam on your forehead. “Does this have to do with Dave?”

Your silence is a confirmation.

“Oh, Karkat. I—“

A cellphone that isn’t yours goes off. Kanaya scrambles frantically and accepts the call on her phone. After a couple nods and terse grimaces, she hangs up and snatches up her belongings.

“I’m needed back at the studio. Apparently some of the clothing has been damaged, and I must fix it immediately. I hope we can talk about this another day.”

In a flash, she’s out the door, muttering lowly under her breath about irresponsible coworkers, and you’re left gaping at your tiny table as you watch her leave.

Whatever. Kanaya’s got her own business. A lucrative business. Not like you, who’s still struggling at juggling jobs and classes and rent. God, sometimes you wish you could just make a little more money. But money comes with patience, which implies not yelling at idiotic dumbasses who can’t even find their ways out of paper bags, and that is something you wouldn’t be able to do even if your life depended on it.

Your coffee’s mildly warm now, no longer suited for sipping. You take the cup and down half of what’s left of the fragrant beverage before setting it down. Maybe you should head home. There’s no point in wasting your valuable time in this social joint, because you clearly are not a very social person, and don’t wish to spend time lecturing the oblivious imbeciles, who eye your table like a hawk eyeing new prey, on why it is common courtesy to wait until a fucking table is unoccupied before jostling to see who gets it.

You’re downing the rest of your drink and about leave the table to the hawks until something catches your eye. Your lukewarm drink conveniently slides down the wrong pipe, and you splutter and choke in an attempt to not drown your lungs in caffeinated beverage.

A guy. Wow, great, how descriptive. Not that you can be very descriptive when you’re busy coughing your lungs up. Frantically, your eyes search for him again.

He’s lanky and thin, with gangly limbs, but he holds himself in an almost elegant manner, and it suits him. His business casual wear only refines his figure more, though you only see his back as he orders something you can’t hear. Then he turns around and—

_Oh._

He’s wearing glasses—each lense is a different color—and is wearing a trademark, shit-eating grin. You would recognize that grin anywhere. He doesn’t notice you just yet, and you continue to stare. The man finds an acquaintance at another table and begins to talk to him, making hand gestures at the same time. You watch the curve of his collarbones jut out as his hands move languidly, and the snarky way his shit-eating grin stays on his face.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you trade gazes with him for one long moment, before you move your eyes back to that grin—that fucking mesmerizing smile, that absolutely piss-faced quirk, those breathtaking lips.

You almost feel yourself grin back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a talk with my moirail in the pile and we decided it would be better if I made this Karkat POV a little more... Karkat. TW for cursing, though that should be a given (and shouldn't be posted at the end of the chapter lol xD). So, sudden writing style change BAM! Also check out my epic beta-rail (rivan-okurelin) on Tumblr because she does artz and cool things. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where contact information is exchanged and some explanations are given.

“Excuse me, but will you be leaving soon?”

Jesus shitting Christ on a firecracker. Who the fuck lacks the common sense and patience to blatantly ask someone that so rudely? You frown and glare hostilely at your offender, who seems to be a relatively harmless man. He immediately takes a step back. “Do I _look_ like I’m leaving soon? Or maybe your numbskulled brain is too shriveled to understand the basic concepts known as courtesy and patience. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck all of you asses and your idiotic excuses of thinkpans!”

Ah, shit. That last word was not welcome just now. Your stupid gaming sessions are really going to your head. Suddenly silent and slightly ashamed of your slip-up, you keep your head low and briskly leave your table, ignoring the strange looks you get from watcher-ons, who picked up on your shrill voice when you were raging. You’re too busy hitting yourself internally for ranting over a fucking question over the availability of a table to notice that the lanky charmer in glasses was staring at you the entire time.

 

==> Be the lanky charmer in glasses

Your name is Sollux Captor and you think you’ve just met an interesting man.

Okay, “met” is probably not the most accurate term—“stared at intensely” would describe it better. But he was interesting to you, or rather, you were interested in him. After you two caught eyes, he was distracted by a customer, who appeared to ask him something that also enraged him. A couple seconds later, you heard him brutally lecture the guy, and then heard the word “thinkpans.”

That brought back memories. Memories of your beginner coding days, where your two fathers encouraged you to mess around with their simulation programs (they ran a game company) to stimulate your creativity. It didn’t really stimulate anything, but you did get some good laughs from it. A particular game you remember helping your parents with ended up being sold to the public. It didn’t do well, but the game itself was hilarious. Some shit about an alien universe and dating weird devil-creatures you designed on a whim. Of course, you didn’t forget the gratuitous self-insert, and you sneakily put your “trollsona” into the game as well. You’re pretty proud to say that you were probably the most dateable character in that game, but on the other hand, the rest of the personalities you inputted weren’t that top notch.

But enough of that. It seems like that nubby guy picked up your game and played it seriously, too. Who else would accidentally use the strange, made-up anatomy vocabulary you inserted into the game? You actually would be intrigued to know what he thinks of the game, though you guess you’re actually more intrigued just to know more about him in general.

“Sorry guys; I’ve got to bolt,” you say noncommittally to a group of acquaintances at the table, who you’ve been ignoring during your entire thought process. Grabbing your recently served drink, you make your way outside. Maybe you’ll be able to catch the guy. Maybe, though you won’t completely admit it just yet, just maybe, you could consider yourself _attracted_.

 

==> Be the guy briskly walking out of the café

“Hey—I said hey, wait up!” Someone calls out to you while you fastwalk your way down the street, pondering over whether you should go home and play more Sgruban Love. You’ve just generally been in a really crappy mood, and at the moment, playing games seem to be the only consistent activity that brings you happiness. And wow you sound like a loser admitting that.

“Hello? Are you even listening?”

You turn your head and your eyes widen. You’re surprised to see Sollu—no goddammit his name isn’t Sollux you fucktard stop naming people after your video games just because they look alike—the bespectacled man walking next to you. Then you remember the outburst you made at the café. God no, you hope he didn’t pay too much attention to that. “I heard you the first time,” you say sheepishly.

“You could’ve turned around, you know.”

“I have better things to do in life than entertain strangers that ask me to wait up for them on the street.”

There was a short silence. Your point was pretty valid.

“Well, whatever, I just wanted to ask you something.”

“What?”

“I saw you in the café earlier, and you said something about thinkpans, so I was—”

“Wait stop right there, nope.” Oh _fuck_ no. He heard it. Fuck, he heard it. He heard you blow up at some poor guy who just wanted to know if you’d be leaving a table soon (in hindsight, you feel a little bad about blowing up on him) and he heard you spout your weird video game nonsense. Okay, it was one word. And normally, you wouldn’t care about any kind of spectacle you make of yourself, because you’re not that type of person, but you can’t help but feel overly self-conscious and you have no idea why. “Okay, first, that was an accident. Happens to the best of us. I just slipped up my wording. I have no idea what a thinkpan is. End of discussion. Bye.” You begin to speed up your walking pace, but the other man stays hot on your heels.

“Wait, just hear me out for a sec! There’s this game that I helped design a while back, and I was wondering if you’d played it—well actually I’m pretty sure that’s the only game on the market with the word thinkpan in it—but I thought I might as well ask,” he concludes.

You slow your step and eventually come to a halt. “Okay, let’s just say that I hypothetically played your weird game. Why do you want to know?”

He seems frustrated for a couple of moments as he tries to pick out a satisfactory answer. “Because I’m interested in you, I guess?”

You’re not sure if you want to read more into that comment or not. Interested how? Surely this stranger you met in a café that coincidentally looks like a dating sim character is not hitting on you. You try to pay no mind to his nonchalant answer and stare at him square in the face, which makes you tilt your head up because he’s goddamn tall.

“Listen, buddy. I’m going to make this short. I’m not in a good mood today, and you’re definitely not helping. It’s not that you’re a douchebag or anything—I’m not saying you aren’t, though, but I would really rather not talk to you right now. I kind of just want to get home.”

He’s surprisingly understanding about it. “Yeah, sure,” he says, “but maybe you could give me your email or something? I’d like to talk to you again.”

You ponder over the idea and decide why the hell not. Hopefully you won’t get spammed later because of this. “Got a piece of paper?” you ask.

He hands over a napkin and a pen, which you grab and scribble on.

“Here’s my Trollian.” You give him back the napkin with the word “carcinoGeneticist” on it. “I don’t really check my email, and if you helped design Sgruban Love, you sure as heck better have a copy of the game.” You’re pretty much past him finding out you play the game. He helped designed it anyway—you assuredly can’t lie yourself out of this one.

An apparently hip feature of the dating simulation is that it has a chat client. Normally, it would be used as part of the game, and is a main facet in communicating with the characters, but when connected to wifi, you could use it to chat with other users who own the game. You’ve never used it to contact real people though, so you’re not quite sure how different the features would be. The person on the other end of the chat definitely wouldn’t be spewing out compliments on how great your hair looks and how much they like you, that’s for sure.

“Thanks then. I’ll message you later today then, okay?”

You nod absentmindedly and before you know it, he’s heading back the direction he came.

Time to go home, you guess.

 

==> Hey, you got his Trollian!

Okay so catching up with the dude was not the greatest idea you’ve ever had, but at least you got his Trollian, which also confirms your suspicions that he indeed does play Sgruban Love. You’re pretty excited to troll him, and you know he’s going to freak when he realizes your account is basically an exact mirror of the game’s AI version of you. You guys share the same text color, typing quirk, and handle, because you technically are the same person anyway. Normally, the game automatically doesn’t allow users to make accounts that copy its bachelor AI information, but being a part of the game production team has its benefits.

You’re fucking Sollux Captor, and you’re in a pretty good mood.

You bypass the café you were at originally and keep walking. It feels more like a stay-home day for you, especially when you’ve got people—or a certain person—to talk to. Grinning, you make your way back to your apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus it's so much shorter when uploaded. I'll have to write longer chapters. I'm not a regular updater, but I guess you guys got that from my not-uploading-in-more-than-2-months fling. I hope you enjoyed it though! Thanks for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments, as well. ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Karkat playing a dating sim has always been a particularly entertaining thought. Now with KarSol!
> 
> Thanks to Mid (rivan-okurelin) for beta-reading, and arguing/editing the crap out of this. And the support. Always the support. Also, just in case this needs to be clarified, CHERUB LOVE WILL NEVER COME IT WAS A SCAM. Haha GrubGames lied on basically everything it advertised, guys, time to sue.


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